


A Million Missed Chances

by Jenivi7



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Bad Poetry, F/M, epic intros, the fic that quickly got out of hand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 12:14:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29509530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenivi7/pseuds/Jenivi7
Summary: "She was born with a gift for strategy that would always shape her, guide her and would always result in one thing.  Mai would always became a duelist and it would always lead her right up to the threshold of some very strange events." Conquestshipping (Valon x Mai). Originally written for Compy's Pairings Contest way back in 2008.
Relationships: Kujaku Mai | Mai Valentine/Valon, conquestshipping - Relationship
Kudos: 1





	A Million Missed Chances

Somewhere along the line, someone made a choice. It wasn't a very popular decision and it wasn't liked by many, but nonetheless, it was made. One something was chosen over another, and the universe went charging forward, wrong or right, careening in the direction of the choice. It slowed slightly for the next decision to be made, then barreled on ahead until it hit another, and another. The endless worlds of possibilities narrow themselves down choice by choice and action by action until eventually, an outcome is reached.

The process is a natural one and never seems to present more than a fair number of possibilities at once. The universe prides itself on being rather reasonable in that respect.

But sometimes,

sometimes,

if you examine an action or a decision in just the right way, (turn it just here, tilt it just there, let it catch the light at just the right angle)

the sheer _number_ of branching outcomes visible...

is staggering.

  
  


**_A Million Missed Chances_ **

  
  


_Remember when I loved you_

_But you never did like me_

_Remember when you thought ‘maybe’_

_But I only wanted you to hurt_

_Remember the way we used to play_

_As if hearts wouldn't break_

_And words didn't wound_

_I remember when I figured out_

_That you just_

_Weren't in_

_The mood_

  
  


She always joked to those who questioned her choice of profession that it would take the world ending, the very apocalypse itself to make her stop dueling. Strangely enough, she was right. She always said she loved it, even when she didn't, because with every love comes hate but as with all of the strongest bonds, even when she hated the game, she loved it. When she dueled she felt as though something, somewhere in the universe was _right_ because even with endless possibilities, somethings are constant, and in all possible worlds of all possible universes, Mai found her peace in a good game of cards. She was born with a gift for strategy that would always shape her, guide her and would always result in one thing. Mai would always become a duelist and it would always lead her to the threshold of some very strange events.

_A few worlds exist where they never met. Not very many, but a few._

  
  


In one possible world, there was no one to save her.

Not that she would ever ever _ever_ say she needed rescue (that was a weak, girly excuse to get someone else to do life's dirty work and she didn't need anyone but herself). But it might have been nice. It might have had a great effect on her and touched her deeply. It even might have changed her course had she ever stopped once to make a friend, intentionally or not. Had her curiosity overcome her anger and bruised pride at not only having her little bit of trickery found out, but also being beaten in her element by the most obnoxious blond teenager she'd ever met. It wouldn't have been so bad to put herself out there and find someone who cared, who would cheer her on when she was winning or console her and help pick up the pieces when she lost. It would have been nice to have someone who tried (even if it wouldn't have helped and they knew it) to pull her out of the way or even, heaven forbid, jump in front of the energy blast that would take her final life points in the next large tournament they all participated in. The fiery torrent that looked _so_ real even if it was just a hologram and holograms don't hurt, burn, scald away your skin from the inside when they hit, right? Because it was just a game and not some kind of life or death situation, wasn't it?

It would have been nice if someone had at least cared enough to scream her name when the entire world was squeezed through a pin sized hole and her body crumbled to the deck of the airship, when the only thing that awaited her on the other side was darkness because in this world, she wasn't even important enough for nightmares.

In this world, if someone had cared for her enough to ask if she was alright when she came back to herself (when everything squeezed itself _back_ through the same hole with light and sound and sensation spreading out and up and into her in a way that was just as excruciatingly painful as the reverse process) she wouldn't be any less terrified but she could still _say_ she was fine, pretend for someone that things would be alright, even if they'd never be the same again and all knew it. But still, she could have at least pretended.

Perhaps then she might not have run so far and fast that even the man whose attention she had caught when those last duels were televised, a man who had infinite resources at his disposal and the drive to use them, not even he was able to track her afterward.

In this world, she had enough of powerful cards and holograms that were too real for comfort. In this one, as soon as the blimp landed, she disappeared from the public eye (and the private one as well) and her entanglement with destined events ended, twisting them and the lives she would have touched into forced shapes and odd patterns.

But those outcomes have no place here. They are not a part of _this_ story.

_In one world, they met on opposite sides._

In one, the strands of fate did not bind as tightly as they should have and a boy gave his prized possession away to please his only friend. Here, someone else solved the puzzle that so many couldn't and the pieces of destiny had to do some very fast, very creative rearranging.

Even here no one saved her when it mattered but at least in this world someone cared. She didn't make friends during that first tournament but she did make casual acquaintances with some 'sweet kids' and now she was important enough for the nightmares. She was important enough to be tortured and isolated and a part of some fucked up kid's misplaced revenge, but here, someone tried to save her. Someone did jump onto the platform and even disperse the holographically disguised magic so that when her soul was sucked through that tiny, tiny hole at least it didn't hurt. And afterward, if she was forgotten about in the immediate sense (no one could see scars of the mind especially when she insisted that they weren't there), afterward she was found in the depths of depression and guided back, despite her pride and stubborn nature because the girl who solved the puzzle was nearly as stubborn and unyielding as she was.

In this world, even if pieces and people were missing (she never met and didn't lose to an obnoxious blond teenager) she was saved in a different way and the girl gained a loyal friend, a woman who was touched by the way she cared when she didn't have to and stayed when it was easier to leave and in this world, she still gained the attention of the man with unlimited resources, but he didn't reach her before the girl did and when they finally met, it was on opposite sides as opponents.

_In most worlds, where fate had a firmer grasp of the situation and destiny didn't have to shuffle bits around to make sure the greater plan still_ worked _, she made friends, fought enemies, won battles, and eventually, lost to herself._

In most worlds, the man whose attention she caught, finally tracked her all the way to a dingy bar halfway around the world. He introduced himself as Valon, and offered her exactly what she thought she needed, what he thought she needed. He offered her a way to make herself stronger without taking help from anyone and she took it because old habits die hard and pride makes a person forgetful.

The raw power that coursed through her when she gave in and gave up her mind to something greater did work better than anything she'd tried so far to keep the nightmares at bay. But it only worked for a while and every time they came back, they were worse. Valon could tell her how much they were alike and how much they needed each other, Dartz could preach about his greater good and how it was their purpose and destiny, but at night she still fought against shifting sands and banged on indestructible glass and screamed at friends who couldn't hear her. At night it was all she could do not to drown in her own isolation.

Events unfolded as they would and, eventually, she was proven wrong in what she thought she needed. They all were. Afterward, she finally figured out that the best cure for a subconscious fear is to face it and show it that it holds no sway in reality. Her friends hadn't turned their backs on her and when she was wrong, they told her so. When _she_ realized she was wrong (because that’s a very different and much harder thing), they forgave and accepted her.

Too bad she wasn't ready to accept herself.

In most off shoots of _this_ world, she left and never saw Valon again.

In a hand full, however, she remembered him favorably. They _were_ alike after all in that they had both made the same mistakes and fallen for the same false promises. In these worlds, she sought him out afterwards.

_In one world, they tried to make something of it. Unfortunately, in this one, they just ended up repeating their same patterns all over again._

This one was like a bad movie. The platform. The train. Him telling her how much he loved her and begging her not to go. Her with a bag in hand and no intention of staying. 

If it were an old western she'd be in a bonnet and floor length travel gown, wind whipping her shawl around her corseted and bustled frame. She'd have some cheesy line about how she simply couldn't stay.

If a classic black and white romance, the dress would be black and small, some veiled thing that passed for a hat pinned to her up swept hear, diamonds strung around her neck and hanging from her ears. In this one, she'd still reject him but he would grab her and kiss her and she'd melt into his arms.

Hell, while she was running through cliché scenes, why not ditch the train setting all together. Make it 1835 in a Chateau off the Italian Isles, hair standing at ten times its size and faces covered in gaudy masks even though their identities were known. At least then her rejection would be something flashy and elegant.

_"I think,_ sir, _that you should keep your own council on such matters."_

_"And what exactly does that mean."_

_"That you should not burden others with_ your own _problems."_

_"You speak harshly, my lady."_

_She would sigh. "Would flowery words have the same impact? Would you understand if I spoke with anything other than brutal honesty."_

_"No, I suppose not." He would look away, hurt, then back, hopeful. "Have a last dance with me then, my harsh mistress, to sooth the wounds that your words have left in my heart."_

_"Your tongue is far too charming for your own good.” She would hesitate, and finally, give in. "One last dance."_

But it wasn't a movie. No dramatic moments. No giving in. No second chances. She wasn't going to realize suddenly that he was all she ever wanted. She couldn't stay _and_ be happy.

Her hand tightened around her bag.

In this universe, she didn't say a word. Just stepped onto the train without looking back.

  
  


_In another world, he accepted defeat._

  
  


"What about you and me?"

"Maybe if we weren't so fucked up, something might have worked."

And she laughed about it.

Laughed.

As if they hadn't almost brought on the apocalypse, then helped stave it off because of just how fucked up we were.

  
  


And he laughed.

  
  


And perhaps that in itself showed just how far they had both come.

  
  


But he realized that they must still be fucked up.

Because she was here.

And she didn’t belong to him.

_In another, she got just a bit closer._

“What do you want, Mai.”

“What do I want?” she repeated as if she didn't quite understand the question.

“What are you looking for?”

She was quiet for a long time and he wasn't sure she was going to answer until her voice reached him once again, soft this time, small.

“What any little girl wants I guess,” she tried to laugh, tried to make it a light joke, something that didn't matter but it did and he barely caught the soft admission that followed. He thought maybe he wasn't supposed to. “I want to go home.”

“It's nice for some people,” he said, musing aloud to himself as though she hadn't said anything. “Some people are born to loving parents and have a home to be brought to. But some of us don't get that start, or it's taken away somewhere along the road. Some get to lose it more than once. But that doesn't mean it's gone forever. It just means you have to make a home for yourself. Find the place that fits you best, the place where you really want to be, and set up shop there.”

The last of the day's light turned the land yellow, then red, dying the already bright colors of the soil in something brilliant and bringing it alive in a play of light and shadow, shapes and colors spilled toward them until night made its claim and even then the desert was still alive, sound taking over in light's absence with the songs and cries of the nocturnal wildlife.

Her breath caught in her throat and she glanced back at her companion. The glimmer in his eyes and small smile on his lips saying that this was _his_ and she could see clearly what he had so vaguely alluded to. This was his home.

For a moment, she wondered if it could be hers too. If she could feel the same way about this place as he did. If she could feel the same things for him that he felt for her.

But it wasn't, she couldn't, and knowing that made her feel as though she needed to leave that very second.

  
  


_And in yet another-_

  
  


The click of her heels on the floor, her manicured nails, her meticulously curled hair because she always claimed she couldn't do anything else with it. She was as beautiful and perfect as when he'd first laid eyes on her. And nearly just as cold.

A kiss on the cheek, a ‘hello darling,’ exclamations over ‘how long has it been’ and other such pleasantries made him realize that if he wanted to know the reason for her visit, he'd have to drag the answer from her.

But of course, she was vague and non-committal and when truly pressed, asked,

“What's the matter, don't you love me anymore?”

The question was said lightly, in a joking type manner but he knew better than to respond in a similar fashion. When a woman said something like _that_ , they always meant it.

“Yes, but it doesn't matter. And even if you returned the feelings, it still wouldn't matter. You're still running from something, Mai, and until you get away from it for good or face it,” he shook his head rather helplessly, “well, it just wouldn't be any good.”

She froze at such a blatant truth. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Of course not. Forget it.”

He turned to walk away. The half choke of a not quite covered sob made him pause, almost expecting her to call him back but she didn't. Of course she didn't. Too stubborn and prideful for her own good.

Just one of the things he loved her for.

But he kept walking.

She found a note in her bag days later. When she'd already left. When she'd already moved on. When she was already done with this place because that's all it was, just a place. Just a stop along the way.

But as she reached into her suitcase for one of those small things that she could remember packing but never seemed to find, she pulled out a small envelope with her name written hastily along the front. Inside was just a small note.

“I do love you, Mai, more than anything, but I love you in the good way. I love you in the way where you don't just give the person whatever they want because some things they have to give themselves. You can help but even then, the help only means something if they ask for it.

Ask me sometime.”

It wasn't signed with a name but it didn't need to be. She knew who it was from even if she didn't know how he had slipped the thing into her luggage without her noticing. What did exist at the bottom of the note was a phone number, international codes included, apparently so she could dial the thing from wherever she happened to be.

She sat on the bench of the train station and stared at the note for a long time, long enough for one of the attendants to ask if she was alright, to which she could only nod, unable to find her voice.

Was it that easy? Was she just still doing things wrong and hadn't realized?

Maybe there were some friends she needed to visit. Some very good friends who didn't deserve to have her constantly shut them out.

After another long moment, a nod of her head, and a particular set to her stance, she strode toward the attendant's window to exchange the ticket she had for the one she really wanted but never before felt like she deserved.

But not before folding the note and tucking it safely back into her bag.

It held a number she wanted to keep. One of another very dear friend.

_-in another world, his love was finally returned. In a very different, but very meaningful way._

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly I still love this fic so goddamn much. I'm glad I got a chance to look it over though and clean it up just a tiny bit. Oh my god did I torture some sentences in the original. That's an original poem up at the top and I don't write poetry so it's probably terrible. Also the scene where Anzu solves the puzzle is a direct reference to Scribbler/Obabscribbler's Variation on a Theme: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/2630951/1/Variation-on-a-Theme which I started reading again just now and it's still - wow. Still highly recommend.


End file.
